Arrival of the Birds
by captainfloor
Summary: One has lost the love of his life. The other has lost her family. But fate pushes these two lost hearts together, and they realize that they can help each other find what they need. And so they set out on the adventure of their lives. Dear reader, do not expect the most romantic of love stories, for this is a tale of revenge and bloody tears. Alas, once upon a time ...
1. Chapter 1 - Once Upon A Time

_Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a king and queen, who were madly in love and as happy as could be. The king had the kindest of blue eyes, known throughout the realms for his modesty and bravery. The queen was undoubtedly the fairest of all the lands, with hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, and lips as red as the petals of a newly bloomed rose, remembered not only for her beauty, but for her compassion. Together, under their tightly clasped hands, the kingdom thrived._

_When the royal couple gave birth to a lovely daughter, it was a day of festivities, a day for celebration. They named her Emma, a name which meant "universal," in hopes that she would grow up not only to be beautiful and graceful, but to become the people's leader, a friend for all. She had hair as golden as the sun and eyes the same beautiful shade of green as her mother's. She had her father's courage, her mother's benevolence._

_On the eve of her tenth birthday, the entire castle was enveloped in purple smoke. A woman dressed completely in black emerged from the thick mist, a woman by the name of Regina Mills. Veiled with hatred that she was holding onto for something the queen had done as a little girl, she had gone in search of the Dark One, the most powerful man in all the realms. With a curse given to her in exchange for her father's life, she tore apart the royal family. She forcefully gained control over the entire kingdom and imprisoned Emma Swan, locking her up in the highest tower, where she would live for years to come. Not a single soul knew what became of the king and queen, dear Charming and Snow White. To even speak their names became a felony._

_The forest began to shrivel up, its plush greenery withering into twisted black branches. The people suffered and starved, too afraid to rebel or to even speak out. The birds stopped singing. Happiness had been ripped from the kingdom._

_And thus, our story begins._

A ship rocks softly in the middle of the sea, its sails flapping loudly in the howling wind, the waves lapping at the wooden exterior. The deck is empty, for all the crew members have gone inside to get some shut-eye. The only source of light for miles and miles comes from a candle that burns inside the captain's cabin, which is occupied by one man and the only woman on board.

The man stares at the sleeping woman beside him, gazing at her dark curls splayed over his pillow, her chest moving slowly up and down in harmony with her breath. He uses a thumb to graze her lips and caress her cheeks. The rings on his finger are cool on her face, and she stirs slightly.

Stifling a yawn, she turns toward him. When their eyes meet, her face melts into a soft smile. She reaches her hand up toward his cheek and murmurs his name. "Killian."

He grabs her hand and holds it to his lips. "Milah. Go back to sleep."

She shakes her head and rolls over suddenly so that she is on top of him, her legs on either side of his torso. Her eyes are still misty with drowsiness, but her voice is alive, teasing. "Make me."

He raises an eyebrow and his lips tug into a devilish grin. "Is that a challenge, my love?"

She leans down to run her lips against his neck, his throat, his jaw. He moans slightly and struggles to keep his voice steady, "You know I love a challenge."

"Mhmm," she murmurs against his temple, her warm breath fluttering into his dark hair, as she begins to unbutton his vest.

Suddenly, a dark purple cloud appears from nowhere and seems to fill the entirety of the small cabin. The flame of the candle flickers precariously, forming terrifying shadows on the wooden walls. Startled, Milah falls back onto the bed, away from Killian. Her eyes widen in confusion and she coughs, waving the air in front of her.

A silhouette of a shaggy haired and thin man emerges from amidst the colored fumes. A mocking and sinister laugh seems to reverberate and bounce off of every surface, sending chills running up and down Killian's spine.

"Sorry for interrupting." The voice is nasally and high-pitched, colored with dripping sarcasm.

The purple clouds vanish as suddenly as they had appeared. The man now standing in front of them has the appearance of a human, and yet...

His hair is stringy and unkempt, his eyes a sinister brown tinged with an almost bloodthirsty red. His skin is scaly and bumpy, like that of a reptile's.

"Rumple?" Milah gasps and her hand flutters to her mouth. "What happened to you?"

Killian looks back and forth between the two. He shakes his head in utter disbelief and confusion, before focusing his gaze on their uninvited guest. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Sorry, dearie, where are my manners?" The man titters slightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet in delight, before bowing theatrically. "R-r-r-r-rumpelstiltskin!"

Killian turns to Milah incredulously. "You know this...crocodile?"

She nods, avoiding his eyes all the while. She swallows hard. "He's my...he wasmy..."

"I _am_ her husband." Rumpelstiltskin widens his eyes in mock delight and sings, "Or as the entire kingdom knows me now, the Dark One."

"Why are you here?" Killian asks cautiously, his voice a low growl. His face hardens. Even at sea, he had heard rumors of the Dark One and the misadventures that befell those who ever disobeyed him. He throws his legs over the bed and gets up to stand on his feet.

"I'm here to take my wife back," the crocodile states his business simply.

"Take her back," Killian echoes him in incredulity, his voice colored with a blatant mixture of disbelief and amusement. His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

"Yes, dearie. You see, I was enlisted in the army and I came back when I - ah - injured myself." He points toward his foot and sneers, revealing a row of yellowed and rotting teeth. "But when I returned and opened the door to our home, expecting to see my wife, well, all that was left behind was a note."

He pauses and jumps slightly, sarcastically pointing a finger up, as if he had just had an epiphany. "That's when you stole her! So now I plan to take her back."

Killian places his hand on the hilt of his sword and hisses, "Over my dead body."

"Oooh," Rumpelstiltskin coos in mock admiration. He waggles his fingers in delight. "So brave. But so naive."

The sound of scraping metal echoes in the room as Killian brandishes his sword and lunges forward. His brows knit when he finds the sword has failed to meet its target, piercing instead, through purple mist, exactly where the monster had stood mere seconds ago. Taken aback, he turns around, where Rumpelstiltskin is now standing with a knife at Milah's throat.

"How...?" Killian gapes and then immediately shuts his mouth. He straightens up. Between clenched teeth, he spits, "Let her go."

"Drop the sword first, dearie."

Hesitating for only a second, he lets the hilt of the sword fall through his fingers. It clatters to the ground.

"I take her with me, or she dies." Rumpelstiltskin giggles menacingly at his victory, for he knows that Killian will do anything to keep her alive.

"So if you can't have her, nobody can. Is that what you want, crocodile?" Killian's eyes shine with anger, yet his blue eyes are icy. He scoffs bravely and points with the end of his sword. "You're a coward."

Rumpelstiltskin widens his eyes. He gestures questioningly toward his own ear, though he clearly heard what Killian has just said. "Pardon?"

"I said you're a coward," he repeats, his voice hard and steady, growing louder. "If you love something, you fight for it. So fight me..._coward_."

"No."

The voice does not come from Rumpelstiltskin, but from Milah. Both men whirl around to face her.

"Killian, don't do it." She has tears swimming in her eyes and she is biting her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She turns to her husband reluctantly. "If I go with you, will you promise me that Killian stays alive?"

Rumpelstiltskin sighs dramatically and he gestures with a ridiculous flourish. "If he must."

"Then I'll go." She struggles to keep her voice steady.

"Excellent. Then it's a deal," exclaims Rumpelstiltskin. He waves his hand in the air, and purple clouds start to appear again at their feet.

"Milah, no!" Killian cries.

As the two begin to disappear behind a cloud of dark mist, he rushes to plunge his sword deep into Rumpelstiltskin's stomach.

The crocodile begins to laugh, and the violet fog seems to vanish temporarily. "You think _that _can defeat the Dark One?"

Killian's voice is shaking with anger, escaping through painfully clenched teeth. "I _will_ defeat you, even if I have to do it singlehandedly."

"Singlehandedly, dearie?" Without a warning, Rumpelstiltskin takes the sword out of his stomach without so much as an expression of pain, and immediately swings the blade toward Killian so that it slices his hand off. Killian drops to his knees, crying in pain and cradling his bleeding stump of a wrist toward his body. The crocodile sneers mockingly, "Good luck with that."

And with one final giggle, the coward disappears, taking Killian's love with him.

For one second, it is dead silent. Even the wind has ceased to rattle the windows, the waves have stopped hitting against the ship. Killian sits on the floor, his eyes distant, looking, but not seeing. Blood is still squirting out of his arm where his hand should be and has begun to puddle in a dark red mess on the floor.

Roaring angrily, he lunges suddenly toward his desk and violently sweeps his arm across the surface, knocking books and maps and parchment to the floor. He rips the sheets from his mattress and throws them to the floor, stains of red streaking the white fabric. He grabs his sword from the floor and swings it wildly into the wooden post in the room. The rope that had been wrapped tightly around it unravels so that a curved metal object falls to the ground. The sudden noise seems to wake Hook from his caprice.

He exhales slowly and walks toward the hook, bending slightly to pick it up. He holds it at an angle so that the candlelight hits it, making it glow a mysterious gold color. Raising an eyebrow, he places it near his freshly amputated arm, as if it is his hand. He decides against discarding of the object and instead, pockets it.

When he does so, he reaches his right hand into the pocket of his coat, and his fingers hit a cold and round object. He pulls it out and stares at it, rotating it slightly. He watches the needle move ever so slightly in between the E and S.

He looks up, his eyes empty and yet vengeful, and glances out of the window, toward the sea. He murmurs, "I willfind you, crocodile. And I will take back what is mine."

It is quiet. It has been quiet for years.

Emma stares out of the small window, her pathetic and only access to the outside world. She lives in the topmost room of the tower, and though it feels like a prison, it is quite well furnished. She has a feathered bed, a desk and stool, and plenty of parchment and quills to keep her busy. Regina was evil, but she wasn't _completely_ heartless.

Ah. She finally hears it: the sound of metal scraping as the guard pushes her plate of food in from under the door. It's time. She waits until she can no longer hear the sound of his footsteps and then lifts her mattress cautiously to pull out a long nail from under it. She had found it the other day, perched on the ledge outside of her window, as if placed there by magic.

It is curious, but she isn't about to question how it had gotten there. That doesn't matter.

She approaches the metal bars of her door and looks around carefully before grabbing the thick lock from the outside. She sticks the nail into the keyhole and begins to pick at it, moving it this way and that. She grins in satisfaction when the lock finally clicks. With one more glance down toward the end of the hallway, she quickly opens the door and squeezes out. Emma runs down the long and winded staircase on bare feet as quietly as she can, thanking Regina internally for giving the guards leisure during their lunch break. When she reaches the main area of the castle, she begins to make her way to the large doors. She can almost smell freedom.

But suddenly she hears a curious sound, a whoosh, something that sounds like a strong wind. Then two pairs of voices. Emma frowns in confusion. She could have sworn nobody had been standing there before.

When she hears the voices approach her, she immediately throws her body against the nearest stone wall in an attempt to hide.

"It's been a while." Emma inhales sharply as she recognizes Regina,the Evil Queen.

"Why yes, dearie, it certainly has. Are you enjoying your...power?" This voice is high-pitched and teasing, but something underlaying his mocking tones raises goosebumps on Emma's forearms. She shudders slightly and cranes her neck in order to hear the conversation better.

Regina pointedly ignores his question. "This curse will continue to work, correct?"

"Correct. But remember," he sings, "you will be the most powerful in all the land, so long as there are no birds."

"Whatever that means," Regina mutters under her breath. She clears her throat and says with confidence, "I have ordered for the mass killing of all birds in the kingdom. There are no such vile creatures anywhere near my land."

Oh, so that partly explains the silence.

The man laughs. "Ahh, yes."

"And Snow White? How is she doing?" Her voice shows very little concern, as if she is asking about the weather. When Emma hears this question, she straightens up, her heart jumping to her throat.

"Dead, so to speak," he replies in a matter-of-fact tone. Emma throws a hand over her mouth to bury the sound of her wrangled sob. He continues, "Didn't they have a daughter?"

"Yes," Regina sounds cautious.

"And how is she?"

"I could care less about the wretched girl."

"Ah. Such love you carry in your heart," he titters.

That is all Emma hears. It is all she _can _hear, because the sound of her heartbeat races in her eardrums, echoing, hollow. She becomes deaf to every noise, but the one that comes from her chest.

This man knows what has happened to her family. This man was the reason for the brokenness in her life, the separation from her family, her isolation. Revenge clouds over her green eyes, giving her a violent expression that seems uncharacteristic on her soft features.

She tiptoes closer to the wall so that when she pokes her head out, she can see the two people for the first time. But as she does so, she is too late. She can only see the man's disappearing silhouette behind a thick cloud of dark violet smoke.

Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, Emma breathes deeply and pulls her hood up over her head. She begins to walk toward the doors.

"It's Emma! Seize her!" Regina sounds angry, yet her voice seems faraway, distant.

Emma picks up the front of her dress and begins to run, running until she feels as if her ribs will pierce through her skin. When she reaches the large wooden doors, she inhales sharply, and pushes. Fresh air hits her face and she steps out onto grass for the first time in as many years as she can remember. But this is not the time nor the place for nostalgia. She can hear the guards running behind her, their metal armor clinking ridiculously.

Emma begins to sprint toward the bridge that leads to the outside of the castle, outside of her prison, a place that she can no longer call home.

She continues running until she reaches the once-enchanted forest. Gasping for breath, she leans against a gnarly and charcoal-colored tree, gulping the air frantically and clutching at her aching sides. She looks back once, and when she sees that no one else has come this far, closes her eyes in relief.

She slides down the tree slowly, until she is sitting on the muddy ground. Her chest feels heavy, as if something is stuck. She begins to pound her fist against her heart, but the tears don't come.

When she realized that her parents were dead, her spectrum of emotion, along with her capacity to love and hope, had been deeply scarred.

Emma's hand flutters to a thin gold string around her neck, from which a small charm hangs. A charm that her parents had given to her for her 10th birthday, the night before everything had gone horribly wrong. She closes her eyes and sees herself behind lidded eyes. She is wearing a white gown that looks as if has been made out of swan's feathers. Her parents are before her, bending down so that they are looking up at her. Her mother places something into the palm of her tiny hand.

_"A compass, Mama?"_

_"So that you may find us wherever you are, if ever you are lost. Because if there's one thing I know for sure, it is that love and family will _always _find each other." _

Emma opens her eyes.

Though she has no idea where she is going, she is sure of one thing. She will find the man with the curse, and she will avenge him if it is the last thing she does. For her family. For herself.

_And so ends the first chapter in this tale of two lost hearts._

_Miles away sits a shaggy haired man at a cottage, a wooden cane resting at his feet, staring incessantly at a pair of dolls which are perched on his dresser. A man whose powers have yet to be challenged._

_The abandoned princess flies down from the highest tower and a one-handed pirate sails from the seas, both in search for this man, in risk of much._

_Yet, when a person has lost so much, what more can they possibly lose?_

_This _is_ a tale of a once upon a time. As for happily ever after? Why, you'll just have to wait and see._


	2. Chapter 2 - Rules

_And so one year has passed, slowly, dreadfully. The young princess took shelter in the forest, whilst the pirate sailed for months at sea, and without success, for he knows not where to go. His eyes have iced over, his heartbeat dulled, his birth name replaced by a moniker in a futile attempt to abandon his memories, his pain, his capability to love. While he lives in the past, the young girl seems to have lost all willingness to live at all. But revenge sparks brightly in her heart, their hearts, keeping them both alive. Revenge has taken shape as hope._

_Then one winter's night, the needle of the young man's compass began to spin wildly in circles, as if possessed. When it stopped, it was pointing between the E and S. Toward the Enchanted Forest. Where the princess was._

_His journey has finally begun. And hers? Why, it is only a matter of time._

Killi - no - _Captain_ _Hook_ takes one final step off of his ship and onto the wooden dock. He stares straight ahead, toward the dark and twisted forest, before taking one last glance at his ship. The Jolly Roger. His heart feels heavy and burdensome in his tight chest, but he knows what he must do. He nods once and raises two fingers to his temple, a simple salute for the only home he knew. But he knows that it will still be here when...if_..._he comes back.

He continues to walk until he reaches the edge of the woods. He stops to look around cautiously, curiously. Having spent years at a time on a crowded ship in the middle of the sea, the impossibly wide vastness and stillness of the forest perplex him.

Hook looks to his left, where he can barely make out the top of the turrets of a faraway castle. Raising an eyebrow, he shakes his head slightly and sighs exaggeratedly. Some people have it so good. It is unfair. But what he lacks in riches, he makes up for in appearance. Or so he thinks.

And with that, he treks deeper into the forest. Looking around, he cannot help but wonder what has happened here. The trees are black, the ground a dark brown, and the sky a sickly gray, as if someone has sucked out all of the colors from this world. _A fitting place for a soulless crocodile_, he thinks to himself.

He continues walking until he feels as if he has rocks in his shoes, cramps in his side, and a seemingly permanent frown etched on his face. A man of the sea, he is not used to journeying so long on the land. The sun begins to set slowly, casting a brilliant orange shade on every surface of the dark forest. Stopping to massage his thighs, he squints toward the sunset and decides he needs a break.

When he sees a huge and somewhat strange-looking rock, he walks toward it. He sits down with a grunt and leans against it, closing his eyes in fatigue. After a few seconds, he reaches into his bag, takes out his canteen, and begins to take a satisfying swig of the cool water. As he swallows, the earth begins to rumble, the rock starts moving.

_Wait, what_?

When he turns around, he is looking straight into a pair of eyes, each as big as his one hand. Inhaling sharply, his instincts take over, and he swings his hook into the eye of the beast. Instead of dying immediately, as Hook had expected, the monster roars angrily. Blood and a clear and smelly fluid begin to seep out of the eye. The beast grumbles and roars once more, directly into Hook's face.

Hook waves at the air in front of him, coughs exaggeratedly, and pulls a disgusted face. "What the bloody hell did you eat today?"

When the monster growls threateningly, Hook starts to back away, hands up in surrender. It quiets down and Hook smirks, "There, that's a good boy."

And the monster lunges toward him without a warning.

Shouting, Hook runs, his heart in his throat. He looks around desperately, but sees no escape. Perhaps he can climb a tree? He wonders if there is a cave of some sorts that he can hide in. Clutching his sides, he shakes his head. What kind of a creature looks like a bloody _rock_?

He begins to run faster, until he hears something fall to the ground, shaking the entire forest. It had to be the troll, right? Hook stops cautiously, and perks his ears, but hears nothing. So he retraces his steps, to find the troll lying in a peculiar position: on its stomach, sprawled with awkwardly placed legs, a thick arrow lodged in between its eyes. Hook looks around in alarm.

When he sees no one, he fears that his savior could actually be just as dangerous as the monster, the troll, whatever it was. So he begins to run.

All of a sudden, it hits him that he's just escaped from a bloody _troll_, so he whoops in delight and then, of course, runs smack into something.

He falls to the ground, landing on his back and hitting the bottom of his spine against a rock. (A real rock, this time.) Wincing, he struggles to get up. He has a hand to his head, his eyes are narrowed in pain.

"Watch where you're going!" he roars angrily, swiping a hand across his mouth and checking it for any traces of blood.

When he looks up, who does he see across from him, but a girl. Woman? Though her face is obscured by a large hood, he makes this inference easily from her dirty but small feet, her thin and pink lips, and dainty nose, which are all features far too feminine to belong to a man. He raises his eyebrows in appreciative surprise. This will be easier than he thought. He knows far too well the effect he can have on women.

"Me?!" The girl sounds incredulous, and she is obviously annoyed. Her voice is hoarse and dry, as if it hasn't been used in quite some time. She rises to her feet, dusting dirt off of her already-soiled clothes. "You're the one running around with your tail in between your legs!"

Hook bites his lip as an inappropriate joke threatens to spill from his lips. But for some reason, one that he cannot quite place his finger on, he decides that this woman is different. Something like that wouldn't make the best first impression on her. So he decides to tell the truth. "I was escaping from a deadly troll."

The girl's lips open into an 'O' of shock. "That was _you_?"

Just as Hook starts to lift his chin in pride, she shrieks, "Are you actually as stupid as you look?"

This is definitely not the reaction he had been expecting. His brows knit and his mouth opens in defense. "Wha-?"

"If you hadn't noticed, the giant's dead. Because of _me_."

Now it's Hook's turn to say, "That was _you_?"

They stare at each other for a few long seconds (or at least, he assumes she is staring at him, for he cannot see her eyes through her hood) before the girl sighs impatiently and grumbles, "And I guess a thank you is too much to ask for?"

"For what?"

She widens her eyes in mocking awe. "You really are an idiot, aren't you? I just saved your life."

"Excuse me, I don't need a - a - a savior," Hook finally finds the word he was searching for, and then raises an eyebrow. "I'm a survivor, I can take care of myself. It's what I do best."

The girl laughs, but it is hollow and mocking.

"Well, thank you," Hook says finally. But his pride gets in the way, and he adds with an air of dismissive confidence, "though I could have taken care of the troll myself."

The girl purses her lips. "Like I said, it was a giant. Obviously, you've never seen a troll before. They're much smaller and uglier. You aren't from around here, are you?"

Hook falls silent, and his gaze falls onto her curious attire. She is wearing a dress - or rather, the remains of one - which is covered in dirt and leaves. It is thin and sticks to her body, rather than puffing out. He nods toward it, and in attempt to avoid her question, comments, "Splendid dress, lass."

She doesn't even flinch and nods toward his arm. "Nice hook."

Hook frowns. Were the women different on this land? He doesn't know how to act around her and for the first time in _years_, he feels flustered.

She nods once at him before walking away.

"Wait!" he holds out his arm and cries out.

The girl stops, but doesn't turn around.

"Why don't we journey together?" Bloody hell, she was a lass, but she wasn't like any that he had known before. At that moment, Milah strays across his mind, but he pushes the memory away. For one, he knows nothing of the land, and though he may know much about the sea, that kind of knowledge would do nothing for him here. And she seems to know quite a lot. After all, she just killed a tro - giant. So why not?

She turns on her heel, pivoting so that she can face him, her hood still obscuring most of her face. It unnerves him that he cannot see where she is looking.

"And why would we do that?" Her voice is hard, but amusement seeps through it, as if laughing at even the prospect of cooperation.

"We can help each other."

"_I _can help _you_," she corrects him. "But how can you help me?"

He smirks and shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance. "I've heard that I make great company."

She scoffs, but just as she begins to turn away, he adds, "If we journey together and we both find what we need, I offer you passage to any realm you'd like."

He's got her attention and he knows it from the way her back has just stiffened. He barely attempts to conceal his triumphant grin.

"How?"

"Allow me to introduce myself," he bows slightly and simultaneously shakes his hook in her general direction. "Killian Jones. But most have taken to call me Hook. Captain Hook of the Jolly Roger."

He blows imaginary dust off of his hook and then wipes it on his coat. "If you help me get to where I have to go, I can take you wherever you want to go afterward."

"Creative name. How long did it take you to think of that one?" she smirks. She crosses her arms over her chest. "And just how do you know that I would want to leave this land?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Because you have no home. Or else you wouldn't be here. Seems to me that any place would be better than this one."

He watches as she squeezes her lips tightly together. She closes her eyes as she remembers the tower where she has rotted away for the past decade or so and murmurs inaudibly, "You're wrong."

"Pardon?"

"I said you're wrong," she raises her voice. "There are places far worse than this forest, _Captain, _I'm surprised that such a place like this scares you."

"Scare me? Nothing can scare _me_, darling, I'm the bloody captain of the Jolly Roger and a brilliant one at that. Why, I..." he trails off when he realizes that she isn't listening and is walking ahead of him. After a few steps, she stops and turns to face him. "Well? What are you waiting for? We haven't got all day."

Biting his upper lip to suppress his delight, he all but runs after her.

"What's your name, darling?" Hook asks. The girl does not respond. He raises an eyebrow and exhales slowly. "Not a big talker, are you, love?"

She turns around suddenly. "Don't call me that."

"Well, I need _something_ to call you by," he scoffs impatiently.

Her voice gets lower and she finally replies, "Emma."

She bites her lip, afraid that he will recognize her as the lost princess, for although he is a stranger to this land, she cannot afford to take any chances. So she invents her own surname. "Swan. Emma Swan."

He nods in appreciation. "Emma Swan. Well, it's a pleasure to meet you."

She clicks her tongue in response.

After a long minute of silence, she asks him without turning back, "Where are you headed?"

Hook frowns. "I'm searching for a man."

"Are you here for business?"

"One could say that," he remarks coolly. "I wish to kill him."

She purses her lips. "I, too, am in search of a man."

He raises his eyebrows when she says nothing else.

"It doesn't frighten you that you're traveling with a to-be murderer?" Hook chuckles slightly. "Though I suppose my appearance must make the idea much more appealing."

"Of course it doesn't frighten me," she replies. "For death is a fate too kind for the man I seek."

Impressed and yet also taken aback, he exhales slowly and raises a brow. He lowers his voice. "He took away someone you loved, didn't he?"

Her breath audibly catches in her throat and her pace quickens. For the first time since they have met, she suddenly feels afraid of him. He has known her for not even an hour, and she feels as if he can read her mind, past the walls that she has been building her entire life. She asks finally, "How did you know?"

"What other motive is as strong as love?"

Her response is silence.

After a few seconds, Emma seems to have recovered. She clears her throat and attempting to change the flow of conversation (for she hates to talk about herself), she declares, "We need to set some ground rules."

Hook scowls. He hates all of this official business, rules, deals, blah blah. He doesn't even attempt to hide the exasperation in his tone. "Is that really necessary, lass?"

She ignores him and says, "I will help you find the man you are searching for, and in return, you give me passage to a land far from here."

She looks at him, not questioningly, but with an almost annoying confidence that will not accept no for an answer. He rolls his eyes in response.

She holds up two fingers. "Second. We stick together, no matter what."

He raises an eyebrow and licks the corner of his lip slightly. He deliberately and shamelessly allows his gaze to travel up and down her figure. "No need to worry about that."

Emma throws him a reproachful glance and continues. "Rule three. No backstories, no personal talks, no flirting, no nothing. We're just working together, and that's it."

Hook purses his lips. This girl is much more difficult than he had imagined. His brows knit in obvious annoyance.

"And the last rule: we keep to ourselves. Nobody in this kingdom is trustworthy anymore."

"Isn't that a bit dramatic, love?" His eyebrows shoot up.

"It's a necessary precaution," she responds, and there is an edge to her tone that suggests that she knows something he doesn't. "Nothing is safe anymore."

He dismisses this and concludes, "So four rules. Why not end on five? It's a nice, sturdy number."

Emma purses her lips. "And what would the fifth rule be?"

"Rule number five," Hook pauses. "We don't fall in love with each other."

She immediately bursts into laughter, and he is pleasantly surprised at the sound of it. It is genuine and for the first time, happy. His brief moment of awe immediately dies away when she chokes out, "And you said my last rule was dramatic?"

He crosses his arms and smirks, "I wouldn't be so confident if I were you, darling."

"Oh, please," Emma retorts. "That won't happen in a thousand years."

"A thousand years is not as long as you think, lass."

When Emma looks up at him in curiosity, she finds that he is looking away, his eyes cloudy and far off, almost as if...

"Well then, that's that," Hook says suddenly, bringing her back from her reverie. "Our five rules."

He stops walking and extends his hand. She holds her chin out and then extends her own, to meet his. They shake once. She is the first to let go, immediately, as if she is afraid of catching disease.

"Let's keep going, shall we?" Emma continues without waiting for him. But his longer strides make it easy for him to catch up.

"What happens if one of us breaks a rule?" Hook asks.

Emma abruptly stops walking, so that he nearly bumps into her. She whirls around and pulls her hood off of head, revealing her face for the first time.

His eyes flutter slightly when he sees her. Her golden hair is streaked with mud and hanging in messy waves, and her eyes are a brilliant shade of light green, rimmed with a dark set of tangled eyelashes. Her cheeks are tinged a lovely pink, and a thin layer of dirt covers her face. For someone with such a quick temper and annoying confidence, she really looks like a...like a woman.

Emma turns around to gaze at him. She looks at him, _really _looks at him, straight into his electric blue eyes, as if staring into his soul. Her eyes search him, making him feel vulnerable, a sensation that is incredibly rare for the brave and heartless pirate. "I'll kill you."

"Who says it's me who's going to break it?"

She falls silent, and an unreadable expression crosses her face suddenly, pooling in her eyes.

"Well, it sure as hell isn't going to be me."

_The hardest of hearts, it is a competition of silence from which emerges no victor. As if they are afraid of saying too much about themselves. And yet the air is thick with tension, unanswered questions, and a mutual but begrudging respect. _

_So the unlikely pair of lost souls trudge through the demented forest, not knowing that they are searching for the same man, the same happiness they have not experienced for years. Happiness that the entire kingdom has not felt since the Evil Queen's enactment of the curse. _

_And my dear reader, you do know what they say about curses, don't you?_

_They are made to be broken._

_As are rules._


End file.
